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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25489783">Controlled Fall</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/NovaNara/pseuds/NovaNara'>NovaNara</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Strange (2016), Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes &amp; Related Fandoms, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cloak of Levitation's point of view, F/M, Humor, Reichenbach Theory, Romance, the cracky sort</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:01:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,302</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25489783</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/NovaNara/pseuds/NovaNara</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>For my - and notjustmom's! - birthday, you all get a gift. Bit of Cloakstaff fun here...and the Reichenbach explanation we never had.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cloakstaff - Relationship, Sherlock's Coat/Cloak of Levitation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Controlled Fall</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/gifts">notjustmom</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own a thing. A. N.  The happiest of birthdays to notjustmom, my heart sister...and to me. This year's gift is very weird, but the Muse is in an odd mood. Hope you enjoy anyway!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She's had many names. Time starts to lose meaning, when you've been around as long as she has. Of course, there is her 'proper' title. Cloak of Levitation. But that's rather a job description than an identity. When you've adapted yourself to someone's tastes, fought together, spent cosy nights playing chess or backgammon or dice or whatever else together...that's when the nicknames start.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Right now, she's Rowan. “Little red one.” Strange named her tentatively, but she understood, of course she did. Why would she complain? She'll be happy to be Rowan for a while. A long, long while, if she and the Eye have any say in it. She's not in any rush to be trapped back in a glass case. That had been frankly rude from the last man in charge of the Greenwich Sanctum.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><a id="cch_f2f8a2b89358b46" name="cch_f2f8a2b89358b46"></a>Rowan loves being her Sorcerer's companion. For one, she's never bored. Whenever there isn't an actual threat they have to face – and frankly, she's worried about his streak of masochism when dealing with them – he's perfecting some spell or another, with her stopping him from making beginner's errors. Or, sometimes, they're traversing universes just because they can. Yes, yes, to check that no threats that might eventually spill into their own are developing. He can spout his doctorly “an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure ” speech as much as he wants, but she knows him. Stephen wants all the knowledge. And staying put isn't conducive to that.<br/>
<br/>
They're visiting one of the almost infinite parallel dimensions, when she meets <em>him</em>. It's not unusual to see Strange again, in one or another of his lives. It's an easier point of entry, soul resonance making the veil between dimensions thinner. He might be the Sorcerer Supreme, and deeply talented, but he's still a very young, slightly inexperienced sorcerer.<br/>
<br/>
No, the youngest version of him, unsurprisingly bent over a microscope, doesn't warrant more than a glance. But usually, she cannot find anyone to relate to. Clothes are clothes. Used, worn down, discarded, and repeat. It's more than not having magic, or consciousness. Mostly they don't even have value, except a monetary one, or a temporary usefulness.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But in the flat, she can feel something...like the memory of an itch at her collar (and no, it's definitely no parasite trying to sneak in.) The place is safe, Strange is chatting with his other self, and so she leaves, following the sensation. And sure enough, there he is.<br/>
<br/>
Oh, no magic in him. And she doubts that he would be able to react, should she decide to do anything...or even notice. But someone packed so much love in every fiber, and protection – how could anyone do that without a spell, honestly, it's a mystery – that Rowan can't help but recognise a fellow. If she had a face, she would smile. As it is, she admires the charcoal wool of the coat for a while. Then, unable to resist the temptation, she pokes at him. Is he going to spray some of these tightly-packed feelings onto her?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He doesn't. They're too deeply woven into his very self. The story of Pygmalion flutters through her mind. Rowan would laugh at herself if she had vocal cords. Here she is, entranced...wanting... wondering exactly what it would take to have an equal. A partner. Someone to cuddle with, while moaning about the reckless, brilliant, sometimes maddening humans they've picked. Would Strange, if she asked...? Probably not without his other self's go-ahead. They can't be over here all the time, after all, and a newborn magical relic needs special care. Oh well.<br/>
<br/>
She doesn't obtain her wish, but she has the next best thing. Despite the fact that she's 90% sure that no universe-hopping threat is looming in this dimension, Strange comes over often. True, the man has an ego – a justifiable one, to be fair – but he's growing better in that department, and wouldn't pop over just to admire himself, or for stimulating conversation. Something is worrying this one – Sherlock, she's finally learned his name – and Strange can't in good conscience abandon himself. She should really stick around and learn about the current problem...but why would she? She hasn't felt a hint of proper magic in this world, even when she tried to extend some tendrils. Spells against ordinary means...Whatever is worrying Sherlock will be waved away.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In the meantime, she can cozy up with him. The wool – and every atom of feeling in it – seems like a hug. Nobody complains about her regular disappearances. And it's not as if she would ruin such perfection. She never would...it's people who just can't help themselves from marring what they love. Just ask the Knidian Aphrodite. The poor girl is still scarred. The coat? Not one thread out of place. If anything, she loses something of herself. Not enough to awaken him, not without permission. But enough that she'll have an easier time finding him, should he be out of the usual place when they come round. (That one time, they popped up uncharacteristically early on Sherlock's timeline. Why? It doesn't matter to her. She's not going to judge Strange's plans if she's not judged in return.)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When, with a knowing grin, Strange opens the portal to a place she knows all too well, and nods to her to go through, she hesitates. Why?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I'll stay right here in the library, promise. No fighting, no nothing...just memorising a few spell. And if trouble comes to find me, I'll just open a portal again, and you'll come help. Okay?”<br/>
<br/>
It's a treat. It's set to look like one, at least. But Rowan knows her current master. Something's fishy. She hovers for a moment, but when he gently pushes her, she gives in. Trouble must be on the other side of the portal. And the Sorcerer Supreme knows she can deal with it.<br/>
<br/>
She passes though proudly, but nothing seems terribly out of place. Not yet. Well, she can spend some time with her favourite, then. She slips under and inside, ready to slip out for whatever. The element of surprise is always a nice plus to have.<br/>
<br/>
When finally chaos happens, it's nothing that seems to deserve her intervention...yet. Nothing worse than an argument, even if an argument with police. When Sherlock puts on the coat, in an angry swish, she doesn't even think to fall away. If he doesn't notice her...it might not be the same shoulders she's hugging, but it's comforting.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It doesn't take too long for her to understand, though. They're on a roof, and Rowan is relieved by the lack of spells in this dimension, because the man in front of him would summon the darkest entities...and have a blast. As it is, she's happy to have no voice, because she would laugh otherwise. Strange saw. Of course he saw. And he wouldn't let himself die for love. Why would he?<br/>
<br/>
It's a challenge. Make it look as if nothing odd is happening. A fall, instead of a flight. Is that why Sherlock didn't notice her? Is he aware? Whether he is or not, she's not going to let him be hurt. Hidden by her beloved, she carefully controls speed, angle, and momentum. If instead of splattering on the ground, Sherlock is gently deposited on it, after an almost-imperceptible deceleration... well. She couldn't let it happen. For one, a shattered body inside it would ruin the coat, too.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The detective has other accomplices. Soon, they're all dragged in, and Sherlock dons a disguise. Soon, a portal opens to call her back. She's half tempted to carry the coat along...for safekeeping... but stern blue eyes warn her. Oh well. If she behaves, she might be allowed to come back soon.</p>
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